Either way, Magnusson - a Swedish artist "somewhere between 80
and 100 years old" - raises a good point when she suggests that,
if you can't motivate yourself to clean for the sake of being
clean, just think of how much of a burden you'll place on loved
ones when you, um, pass on.

It's something she's personally experienced after the death of
her parents, her in-laws, and her husband. And it's something
that many millennials and Gen Xers are experiencing today,
sometimes
paying up to $5,000 for people to haul away their aging
parents' furniture and other possessions.

Magnusson shares some solid guiding principles for organizing
your home, no matter your age or life circumstance.

For example, if you have embarrassing items in your possession -
say, letters from an illicit love affair - consider getting rid
of them now. "If you think the secret will cause your loved ones
harm or unhappiness," Magnusson writes, "then make sure to
destroy them."

Note taken.

And if Aunt Cece gives you a gorgeous (read: hideous) piece of
china and you hate it, don't keep it. Don't even put it on
display when Cece visits, Magnusson says - that will just
motivate her to give you more of the same. (Apparently, in
Swedish, the word fulskåp describes "a cupboard full of
gifts you can't stand to look at, and which are impossible to
regift.")

Magnusson's strategy is pretty different from the last big
decluttering fad:
"Kondo-ing" your home and office, named after Japanese
organization guru Marie Kondo. Kondo encourages people to keep
only those items that "spark joy" in their hearts.

But Magnusson also urges readers to approach death cleaning
rationally. She recommends not starting with photographs
and other emotional items: "You will definitely get stuck down
memory lane and may never get around to cleaning anything else."
Better to begin with your wardrobe, she says.

As for books, if you can't stomach the thought of donating or
selling them to anonymous readers, Magnusson suggests having
family and friends browse your collection first and take what
they want.

But - and this is important - always keep in mind that what you
consider a treasure may be to others a burden. Magnusson writes:
"I often ask myself, 'Will anyone I know be happier if I save
this?'"

In the book's introduction, Magnusson writes that one of her sons
asked her if her book was going to be sad, given that it's
largely about death. "No, no, I said. It is not sad at all.
Neither the cleaning nor the writing of the book."